


Don't Put Off Until Tomorrow

by InsanelyYours96



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Eventual Loki/Tony Stark, F/M, Is it still pawning off responsibilities when you're pawning off responsibilities to yourself?, M/M, Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Slash, Reflection, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyYours96/pseuds/InsanelyYours96
Summary: *Contains Endgame SpoilersTony looks at his counterpart. He appears calm, single-mindedly determined, and as though something impossibly heavy is weighing him down. Tony has always been selfish, and he knows himself well enough to know that he’ll always accept the burden.So perhaps that is why Stark doesn’t ask if he is ready before he restores his health, before he shows him new technology, before he lays the next eleven years bare before him.He is a futurist, a thinker, a fixer. And the fate of billions, if not trillions, now rested on his shoulders.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is where I am at the moment. What about you guys?

“Want some help?”

Tony startled hard enough that his chlorophyll smoothie toppled from his fingers, shattering against the ground. He spun around, palming the weapon nearest to him, which might’ve been effective a year before, when he had more than half-together repulsor beams lying around.

He stilled halfway through raising the weapon, recognizing the intruder. Recognizing _himself._

Tony’s doppelgänger had more lines on his face, more grey at his temples, but his identity was unmistakable.

“JARVIS?”

“Sir, superficial analysis indicates the intruder as Anthony Stark. He has neither an arc reactor or shrapnel in his chest cavity, though there are indications of scarring.”

The interloper— _Stark_ —smirked, eyes finding JARVIS’ nearest camera as automatically as Tony’s own did. “Peeking under my clothes, J? How positively forward.”

The quip was natural, automatic, just as JARVIS’ own response came. “How untoward of me, Sir, shall I buy you dinner?”

Tony cleared his throat, both at his AI and the intruder, and slowly lowered the repulsor to his side.

“So either I’m having a trippy dream, or you’re _me,_ and isn’t one of the first principles of time travel ‘don’t interact with yourself’?”

Stark shrugged in a ‘what can you do,’ sort of way. “I know what I can handle. Though I didn’t actually expect myself to jump to the right conclusion, what with cloning and shapeshifting on the table.”

“I may be going a little grey but I’m no a silver fox, though I am kinda skeptical of the age difference.”

Stark hummed lightly. His gaze was sharp and heavy, and Tony felt as though he were being seen through. And really, who would have better insight into Tony Stark than an older version of himself?

“Because you doubted Iron Man would make it this long, or because you’re dying?”

Tony flinched. It was the first time he had actually heard it aloud, though he and JARVIS had realized it weeks ago. “More the latter, I’d say.”

“What percentage?”

“24% toxicity,” JARVIS chimed. Three percent higher than yesterday, then. The smoothies were slowing the progress, but not by much.

“Not ideal, but we can create the new element before the palladium starts breaking down your kidneys or bone marrow,” Stark murmured, almost to himself. “If I jumped to the right time, you’ll have all the necessary tools here. So, phase one on the agenda, save your life. Phase two includes me spilling secrets of the universe and giving you a basically impossible mission to save half of the galaxy, so let’s hop to it. There’s a lot to do, and I’d like to have enough energy left to tuck in Morgan when I get home.”

There was so much to unpack there, but one part itched at Tony’s brain more than the rest. The most inconceivable one.

“Morgan?” It was Jarvis’ middle name, one that he had hoarded in the back of his mind for decades, just in case he ever decided to procreate. “You have a son?”

Stark grinned at him. “Even better,” he said, eyes bright with joy. “I have a daughter.”

Tony looks at his counterpart. He appears calm, single-mindedly determined, and as though something impossibly heavy is weighing him down. Tony has always been selfish, and he knows himself well enough to know that he’ll always accept the burden.

So perhaps that is why Stark doesn’t ask if he is ready before he restores his health, before he shows him new technology, before he lays the next eleven years bare before him.

He is a futurist, a thinker, a _fixer_. And the fate of billions, if not trillions, now rested on his shoulders.

He was Iron Man.

And fuck if he couldn’t find a way to fix this— _prevent_ this.

Time to get to work.


	2. Aftershock

Tony doesn’t, _can’t_ , accept everything. Not immediately. 

There is proof— _so much proof_ —and Stark was clever. He knew Tony, knew  _himself_ , well enough to know that cold hard facts would always break through the layers of denial.

Aliens don’t give him very much pause, but Thanos does. The statistics do. 

He was entrusted with preventing loss of life on an astronomical scale. 

Tony spent a week drunk, sifting through over a decade of video footage, breaking things, and plotting.

Maybe a week and a half.

It takes waking up for the fourth time with a throbbing head and incoherent blurs of memory from the night before to acknowledge that he can’t go on like that. _He didn't have time_ _—_ and sometimes that was the most suffocating thing because it wasn't something he could fix. He was on a clock, a six year timer, and every second was precious, every moment important. 

Even with the comprehensive timeline his counterpart had provided the goal seemed impossible. He needed every advantage he could get, and alcohol had proven itself a disadvantage.

Detox was brutal, and the _cravings_ , after, were enough for him to install new protocols into JARVIS. 

Tony Stark was sober.

If the world could see him now.

* * *

When Tony focused, he was downright obsessive. Perhaps that was what Stark had been counting on.

He inspected his first nanobot carefully, five years ahead of schedule, and stretched his fingers to work out a cramp. 

“I want a thousand to start, J,” he said, climbing to his feet.

“Of course, sir.”

Machines whirled to life around him. 

Tony smiled. 

* * *

The knowledge takes a toll, as knowledge tends to do. 

Tony woke in a cold sweat, springing upright. His eyes darted down, hand automatically scrambling to confirm the apparent luminance of the arc reactor.

He couldn't breathe.

Panic attacks and a lessened lung capacity did not good bedfellows make. JARVIS helped him, counting out his breaths, adept, by now, at guiding Tony out of his own mind. It was the sixty-seventh consecutive time he had woken up this way, after all.

It takes a great deal of time after Tony’s body has settled for his mind to follow, and by then he was gritting his teeth, temples pulsing, silently cursing his future self. _Stark_. Whatever he wanted to call the man. 

The knowledge he had gained was crucial, but watching his parents die, Rhodey fall, Thanos _snap…_  

Telling him would have been enough. He didn’t need the video evidence. Tony’s a visual sort of person, always had been, always would be. 

His mind superimposed angles, trajectory, force and mass ratios over Rhodey’s falling body, and he knew it shouldn’t have been paralysis, it should have been death. In the armor he had been planning on giving to him it would have been. 

It makes Tony reconsider “War Machine,” reconsider letting Rhodey get involved at all, but he knew better than that. 

Rhodey would hop into danger with or without the suit. Hell, just being friends with Tony put him at risk. The least he could do was arm Rhodey to the teeth and install redundancy after redundancy to make the possibility of a spinal injury practically nonexistent. 

War Machine’s weaponry had always been top of the line, and now it had the defensive system to match. If Rhodey let Hammer put a _finger_ on his baby, though… 

They’d definitely be having a talk about _that_ before he relinquished it. 

Tony’s mind could only idle along a problem he had already fixed for so long, though. His mother’s broken body… a kid he didn’t know, but who clearly looked up to him, turning to ash even as he _pleaded_ with Tony… Pepper _—_ clever, vivacious, _precious_ Pepper _—_ falling into a hurricane of flames… 

He didn’t want to know this. He didn’t want to have seen it. Because preventing Thanos was impossible enough, but preventing _all of it_? Every time one of the people close to him had died, or almost died? 

It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t doable. Things would need to stay the same to change, and the chance of something going wrong _—_ of somebody dying _sooner_ this time _—_ twisted around his neck, an invisible noose. 

Perhaps, without the footage, his mind would have come up with worse. Perhaps it would not have seemed so real without the context of seeing his friends bloody and half-dead. Perhaps…

Tony knew himself too well.

_God_ , he wanted a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's coming slowly, but it is coming. Loki is hiding just around the corner. I'm happy to know what you guys think, so if you have a moment please leave a comment.
> 
> Also, here's a little something to commemorate the holiday, since I'm not doing anything particularly festive. (It's the 4th of July in America.)
> 
> _“What is the human fascination with these works of fire?”_
> 
> _“Oh come on, Loki, you know it’s fireworks.” Tony rolled his eyes. “And besides, aren’t you meant to be the God of Fire?”_
> 
> _Loki flashed him a sharp smile and prodded Tony in the side expectantly, not looking away from the impressive display before them._
> 
> _“Personally, as a scientist, I’ve always appreciated the chemical reaction,” Tony grinned, relenting. “After all, it sparkles. But when I was a little boy, I guess I liked them because they just blossom out of nothing, breaking apart the night. They look like_ magic, _Loki.”_
> 
> _And Loki, out of everyone, could understand the draw of that._
> 
> _He hummed, pulling his lover a bit closer. “Well then, I suppose we can bear these bothersome mosquitoes for a bit longer.”_
> 
> _Tony grinned, leaning back into Loki’s steady hold. “How very kind of you, sweet prince.”_
> 
> _Loki huffed. “Shush, pest, and enjoy.”_


End file.
